Mad Aunt Bernards Tortoise Poetry

"The page to come and visit for a fabulously sensible intake of poetry straight from the divinest of inspiration - and it's only a bit tortoisy. A cracking good read if you're under anaesthetic."Lord Elpus - The Guardian

Friday, August 21

'Deliverance' City Farm - Family Day Out, My Arse...

Imagine a little city farm,With goats and pigs and hens.With visitors coming every decade,And flocking in their tens.

Now have you seen 'Deliverance'?,With the creepy backwoods folk?Imagine a cross with Steptoe & Son,And you'll pretty much get the joke.

Around the edge of the little farm,Were pens for all the creatures.A pig, a burnt-out bedstead, andA cockerel with' special' features.

The only culture at the farm,Should be grown in a petrie dish.From the looks of the men, (the women are worse)They're directly descended from fish.

We wondered where to park our car,I asked one of the men.He pulled up his dungarees and said(At least I think it was) Mhnhnn.

I asked a question, he replied,With grunts and Mweh's and Hng.I smiled and nodded - bad idea!He lunged with a one-tooth grin.

They pointed to a derelict barn,We parked and locked up tight.Three folk on rocking chairs looked on,Five eyes all left and right.

The smell was rank and bilious,It was a filthy, filthy place.I wondered if we'd ever get out,Or if the world even knew of this place.

If we were stuck here, just how longWould the fuzz stay on the trail?Sixty years, I reckon they'd take,By then I'd have grown a tail.

The owner knew some words thatI could clearly understand.His hobbies included scratching, staring,Scratching and smelling his hand.

We got out in the end, thank God,And were not chased out of the place.But if you go to the city farm,Leave the engine running, just in case.

This is a little poem about a place I had the misfortune to visit with a group I work with. Scary, scary, scary pants - run away, run away, run awaaaayyyyy!

I must recommend this place to my friend Wayne. His claim to fame is that his grandfather once punched George Formby, and his school trip was to the sewers of Manchester. Seriously! He'd love this place, as a connnoisseur of odd filth. Another winner m'dear.

What confuses me is....Well, WhatWhat? you sayThe word what, so I'm not going to use itI am confused that why you should have a photo of a Cajun weddingat the top of your postingMa and Pa at either end (Ma is holding the shotgun) with Cleetus and Charlene in the middleNo Charlene is not pregnant, the shotgun is just southern blingWe aren't sure if Cleetus is thoughThe happy couple had been saving all year for this happy day and had saved enough to afford a whole witSurprisingly (BOO!) they immediately chanced upon the theory of natural selection and adopted it most readilyHowever ma and pa who were poor and couldn't afford to mess with the vagaries of creativity and so decided to ensure that the happy couple would consummate the nuptials even if it meant force with sidearmThe more refined society abhorred weapons and relied on gut rot whisky insteadIt would be another century before they heard of beer goggles or developed sufficient brain cells to be damaged by some other form of liquor, so the gut was the best part of the body to attackSneaky really as it saved costs on the wedding breakfast that would followI once saw a poster outside a cinema with characters similar to those in your photo advertising a film, I think about midwiferyStarring Reynolds, Voight, Beatty and a pig.I stared and stared but couldn't work out which one was the pigTell me, do pigs wear moustaches?PS Great poetting

Ah, Feck! Glad your in fine doobrey - have cowpat on back and smiling like a numpty.Weev, your barbecue was a little odd, and the dungarees don't suit you. Bless.Glad you liked it, John, we've been booked again for next year, so no doubt there'll be a sequel!!Jehanine, nice to see you! And I'd love to meet Wayne, anyone whose grandfather punched George Formby is a friend here.Yaff - I see the magic mushroom pasty is working...and yes, pigs do wear moustaches but only as a clever disguise to stop them being barred from pubs during the swine flu scare.DPS, I like! Many comments I get here is worth a post of it's own, and this is no exception!Watercats - welcome! I haven't been to your place, I don't think. But if there's a gator tethered to the porch can I come visit??? And bring my pipe and dungarees?

Flying Saucers??

Children in the 1800's were told that these stationary tortoises were 'flying saucers' that had simply broken down, and were allowed to work on them in their garages after school. They never got them started and were told by adults that they couldn't order the right parts.

Inclement Mood

Never tell a tortoise he has a 'wattly chin'. They get very upset and and are the fifth animal most likely to start road rage incidents.

-
*Precious Stones*
I made a pile of gems for every nation
Each stone was perfect truth, beyond compare
And then I sent each race an invitation
It said, “Ple...

3 years ago

Juan De La Vega

Juan De La Vega was very surprised when the tortoise, who'd been dormant for three hours, suddenly pounced and killed him on it's pointy horns. It apparently didn't like red rags, and didn't feel like 'coming out of his shell'.

Tortoise Day

Hoorah! Tortoise Day - Taken by Mrs Enid Rack of the Reptile Wives' Club

Tortoise Polo

Children became weary of this passtime, it never delivered the speeds it promised, and a proper mallet was never provided. It was a fib, perpetuated by adults - it was the flying saucers all over again.